Page 5 of Single-Dad: The Mountain Man

“So? You have no right to barge in like that. I had everything under control.” I fold my arms across my chest.

“Didn’t seem that way to me,” he growls, blue eyes blazing with fury. “He was about…”

“To what?”

“You don’t like being touched,” he murmurs. “He should have picked up on the signs. I’ll make sure he’s straighten—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I cut in, shoving his chest. Of course he doesn’t move, the man’s a solid wall of muscle. And how does he know about my repulsion to intimacy? “It’s your fault.”

I shove him. Okay, I think it’s safe to say the alcohol is doing the talking.

“Willow.”

“Don’t Willow me. I was about to have my first kiss, my first boyfriend, and you had to go and ruin it.”

I shove him again, harder. Again, the man’s immovable.

“Stop,” he says.

“You ruined my night. Is there anything else you want to ruin, Bone?”

I shove him, but this time I lose balance and reel backwards. He catches my hand.

“I don’t want to ruin you,” he rumbles.

“Well that doesn’t make—” I begin before he cuts me off.

He kisses me.

Crushing his lips to mine, he erases my words and thoughts. Doubts, fears, and insecurities disappear.

It’s just him.

He smells like leather, like pine and cedar, like the mountains, like home. I close my eyes and let him stoke the flame with each stroke of his tongue.

I disappear.

Well, the me I recognize is gone. And in her place, a fierce hungry woman who tiptoes to meet firm lips; who isn’t overwhelmed by their fervor, their ability to shock the breath from her lungs.

My splayed palms press against hard abs beneath his shirt, feel the caress of his thick beard and mane, his bladed cheekbones. I run my hands along his strong neck, coiling my arms around it as I cling to him with a desperate longing.

And he lets me know of his own insatiable craving—groping along the nape of my neck, my back, my ass hungrily as I tangle my fingers in his hair.

He grabs the back of my thighs and lifts me, leaving me no choice but to wrap my legs around him and lock them.

I’m vaguely aware of cold brick grazing my back as he crushes me against the wall, melting me down the length of his body. And he sweeps his tongue over mine, teasing it before deepening the kiss.

“This is so fucked up,” he groans into my mouth. “Can’t…get…enough…of…you.”

“Please…don’t…stop,” I moan while breathing his air and tasting his words.

His tongue and lips render me stupid because I start wondering if he’s taking my virginity with his mouth.

Is that even possible? Google has to have the answer.

The door swings open loudly and Shane pulls away, cursing loudly.

Griff, the bar owner, steps out into the alley.

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